FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

He looked at himself in the mirror and couldn't help but smile. Dustin had surely put on a bit of weight over the last couple of years, but this last month or so seemed unusually better than all that had come before it. He was actually starting to show a bit of a belly now, and he proudly displayed it in front of him as he looked in the mirror more. His goal was coming true, one step at a time, but it had been proven he could do even a little bit of it at a time.

His Crohn's had been the obstacle to overcome, however, and he had been struggling with it increasingly over the time he had been putting on the weight. He didn't like it or the fact that the surgery and medication had a double-whammy effect on how easy it was for him to gain weight, but he had decided to toughen up and push through those blocks. He had still tried to reach his goals. And looking at the mirror now, he seemed to be getting there. He had to be about forty pounds heavier than when he'd started only a couple of years ago, and for somebody who had always been stick-thin, forty pounds was an amazingly high number.

But Dustin still wasn't satisfied with his progress. It wasn't what he had imagined he'd look like, and it wasn't what he had thought was what he should look like. He'd expected to widen a bit in the shoulders (or at least that was one place he'd wanted to be broader in aside from the waistline) and he was not making any progress there thanks to his stick-thin bone structure. His body was meant to be tiny and lightweight, not big like the bear he wanted to be.

Dustin's ideal self was firmly planted in his furry character Berkley Braxton, and he had made the character for many reasons; one of which happened to be as a physical goal for what he wanted to become over time. He had started working towards those changes that most exemplified the differences between him and Berkley, but he hadn't made the biggest ones yet. Impatience had set in a little with time; he always fantasized about one day becoming Berkley, being the big bear that Dustin had never thought he could have been. Still wouldn't have thought these things, actually, but the mirror didn't lie; he was becoming Berkley one pound at a time.

Dustin was only maybe five-eight or five-nine, but his character was six-ten and he knew for a fact that while that was probably never going to change, he had tried to succeed in other areas, but there was a lot he had to concede to fantasy even still. He knew he couldn't have Berk's intimidating physique or his height; hell he probably would never see the exact weight either. And he knew Berkley's drinking and smoking habits would do him in faster than anything else he could change. That would just be his luck (although to be honest, a furry character is meant to be fantastical, that's why they're furry) that he'd pick up the habits and die from them before his Crohn's could get to him.

The Crohn's was the worry though. He had thought that with his surgery a few months ago it would take months to put the weight he'd worked so hard on back, but it turned out that since the surgery his weight had been much easier to increase, not harder, and he could only thank the medicine for that. The damn steroids and the immunity-boosting (or supposedly boosting) drugs that he hated taking were probably the same ones that let him replace ten pounds in less than four months. Before the surgery, his weight wouldn't have climbed as high, and certainly not as high as it appeared to have in the last month or so since his last major complication. And with the increasing complications came the worry that he'd lose everything he'd struggled so hard to gain; those complications didn't seem to be slowing either, according to the tests they'd been running.

Dustin, however, had been working on more than just his belly to compensate for the things he knew he wouldn't be able to change physically. He'd been trying to toughen up, to "bear up" as he called it, so that he could at least reach the level of maturity that Berkley was on. He figured that would at least be the easy part; if he could play Berkley at the right levels already, why not just be them all the time? That had been impossibly difficult too, however, and Dustin was sometimes a bit discouraged from the idea that he'd been making any progress at all in that endeavor. He knew that he was tougher, he was mentally stronger, but it seemed to just come and go as it pleased. He could be just like Berkley when it came to acting that way around others, especially his online friends. He could do it with things like money and entertaining himself on those long, boring stretches of week when his mate was gone at work and he was left alone in the house. But those things weren't where Berkley was needed most. Berkley was needed where the Crohn's took hold the strongest, and so far Berkley wasn't there.

It was amazing that he could be so rational and tough when it came to other things, but he was reduced to a depressing shell of anything resembling himself when bad news from his Crohn's took hold. He was unable to convince himself that the medication was needed or that it would even do a damned bit of good to take it; he kept seeing the cynical side of his disease instead of toughing through it like he knew he should've. And when he tried, it was only after he came to terms with the idea that he was never going to find a way around his disease, that the only way through was the bear way, the way he wanted to go. He felt stubborn saying it like that, and he never did intentionally to others, not even his mate.

His reality and his fantasy were still highly split apart, but looking in the mirror now Dustin felt like they were the closest that they'd ever been since he'd made the goal of making fantasy as close a reality as possible. He even had the goals all planned out in his head, but he didn't have a single clue how the bread trail would fall into place. He wanted it so badly, and he was resolved to just keep doing what he had been doing; eating, toughing up mentally, and playing his fantasy out in his head until the reality more closely mirrored it. What else could he do, after all?

Dustin smiled a bit at himself and looked back in the mirror once more to see what all changes he had made so far, and was almost dumbfounded at how many he had made. He'd grown the best beard his face would allow, even though it was thinner on his cheeks than he liked. He kept a tough appearance on his face usually. He didn't let the small shit get to him like it used to, he was more content with his life as it had become. Even the Crohn's didn't bug him as bad as long as he didn't think about it. Then, of course, there was the fact he'd gone from a size thirty jeans to a size thirty-four in the course of those two years. He was almost a size thirty-six now, since most of his pants didn't fit like they used to only a year ago. There was a lot that Dustin couldn't account for, minute things people had noticed he had not. They had mentioned how strong he seemed to be mentally, even though Dustin was sure he was still insecure and weak with people. He wasn't an extrovert, he was an introvert. He didn't like being uncomfortable in a house with friends; he always felt like curling up into a ball like his old fursona Wolfie would have done. He didn't want to be Wolfie anymore, though.

He didn't like being Wolfie for the simple fact that Wolfie was who he still considered himself to be. As he had thought about it over the last two years, he considered that he was still very much like his shy, quiet, and timid first character. Wolfie had inner strength, something Dustin was sure he'd always had when he needed it, but Wolfie lacked the will to use it. He'd been trying to modify Wolfie too over the last two years, giving him a drive and motivation for his furry character's life. If Dustin was going to change, after all, so would he.

That was one thing that Dustin prided himself on; characters that collectively made up the whole of his being, not characters that wildly deviated from him like most he ran into on the Internet. But that was just his perspective of things, he couldn't know how many others out there were really as annoying or nice as they set out to be. He just assumed most of them were annoying or nice, and the nice ones he didn't know how to find as easily.

Dustin stood in front of the mirror for a little while longer, thinking that maybe his face had puffed out a bit at the cheeks too, but he couldn't be certain. He shrugged a little, adjusted his glasses, and then turned off the bathroom light. He wished he could have weighed himself, but he didn't own a scale. His mate wouldn't use it if they did, despite his support in helping Dustin put on all that weight (after all, his mate was the chef of the two of them, and he'd definitely put Dustin's gut into motion with his feeding him for years now). Likewise, Dustin had always tried to make sure his weight was watched whenever he was some place where he could check it. He'd check it obsessively if he could, trying to sneak away and look whenever he was in the bathroom at his grandparents' house or his dad's apartment. He just was excited to always see the numbers climbing.

As Dustin walked out of the bathroom into the kitchen to look for dinner, he stopped and turned to the front door hearing a knock. He hadn't expected visitors, so who could be at the door now? Certainly not Kevin; his mate was at work right now and wasn't expected home until the sun had long-since set tonight. The sun was still somewhat up, though it was fading behind the horizon now. Any friends set to surprise him usually called ahead of time, and looking out the front window, Dustin didn't see any cars he recognized in the driveway. In fact, he didn't see any cars at all except for the broken one that Kevin owned in the driveway.

The knock came again, and Dustin broke from his silent stare out the front window as walked across the room to answer the front door. It was a small apartment that he and Kevin shared, a three-room place (two if you count the fact that the bathroom was barely a corner in the bedroom's otherwise even-to-the-kitchen size), and the front door was located on the side of the kitchen instead of where the front windows were. The door was almost hidden on the side of the main house (it was a duplex, not just an apartment) except for the awning that covered the step into this side of the house. Dustin paused at the door and then unlocked it and opened the door, the hinges creaking slightly with rusted age.

He was a bit surprised at what he saw standing before him. A man whom he had never seen before stood there with a gift-wrapped box tucked under one arm. He looked around the room behind Dustin and smiled generously. The man was clad in a black silk suit of some sort; the colors were a bit shiny and the fabric smooth and clean. The button-up underneath the suit jacket was a dark red, almost a blood red, and left unbuttoned so that Dustin could see the man's pectoral muscles hiding beneath either side of the shirt. The suit's pants were crisply ironed, a neat crease pleated in as if they were just freshly ironed. He had black Italian loafers on, the kind with a gold strap across the top of them instead of actual laces. He even caught a glimpse of an old-fashioned gold Rolex on the man's right sleeve as he shifted his arm to get the box.

"Mr. Grimsley?" the voice was deep, commanding, and low. It was almost guttural sounding, and it intrigued Dustin how it sounded so close to Berkley's voice sans-accent. The man was closer to Dustin's height, too, and it seemed rather odd that he had such a deep voice. He held the package with one arm and Dustin was vaguely aware that the man was built pretty heavily with muscle. This guy could probably beat Dustin to a bloody pulp before Dustin even realized what was happening. The box was in his outstretched arm, "You're supposed to receive this and make good use of the contents inside."

"Uh..." Dustin wasn't sure what to say to this. It sounded suspicious, even more contrived than the plot of a slasher film, and if nothing else it sounded like a weak reason to get rid of a box of something that was probably dangerous.

"You have to take this box and use the contents in it completely. There is no time to lose." The voice was urgent, but steady and serious all at once. He wasn't sure he liked the idea of having somebody leave a box of things for him just suddenly. Dustin didn't have a choice; the box was thrust into his hands and he immediately felt the weight of something heavy in the box lower his arm before he gripped the box tightly and held it up again. "You must use what is in the box, follow the note's instructions. Goodbye."

Before Dustin even got a word in again, the man turned and walked away, pulling the black fedora lower over his face and trudging down the driveway. Dustin watched him go with quiet curiosity, then looked down at the box in his hands. It was wrapped in blank parchment, and it looked crisply folded as well. Dustin closed the door to his apartment and then went to the kitchen table in the middle of the room and set the box there. He had to know what was in the box before he did anything else, and he sat at the table and gently undid the taped ends of the black parchment. He lifted the black box from the parchment and then removed the top.

The note lay on top of whatever else was in the box, and Dustin took the note out to look underneath. A single bottle of Jack Daniels Honey Whiskey sat in the box along with a single cigar that Dustin didn't recognize the brand name of. It was an unmarked brown cigar, possibly an inch thick, but it was long and definitely reminded Dustin of something his character Berkley would be seen smoking at almost all times. He took both things out of the box and then frowned, finding that the box was empty beneath these things. He set the bottle down and the cigar next to it on the table, then picked up the note to read it.

'Dustin, here's to you becoming a big bear just like you wanted. Enclosed is a bottle of whiskey and a cigar. If you enjoy both together, you will become Berkley. No questions asked.' It was not signed, but Dustin knew that whoever had sent this had known of his character, and that was very few people he knew personally outside of his computer. He wasn't sure if he could trust whoever had sent this gift, but he knew one thing for sure. If the note was to be believed, his dream would come true.

Dustin took a shot glass from the cabinet and set it on the table next to the whiskey, then tore open the top of the bottle to pour himself a small bit of it. He knew he shouldn't drink, but that wasn't what was driving him to try the whiskey at this point. It was the hope, the thought of becoming Berkley. He had had a little sip of lesser alcohols before, but never anything as strong as Jack Daniels. And if his goal were to come true, he never would feel a thing from it; Berkley had such a high tolerance to alcohol he never got drunk. And of course, if he actually became Berkley, he'd have that tolerance too.

He had to pause for a moment, though. Of all the things he wanted, being Berkley was the best thing on that list; it was the top of that list. He couldn't just say no to the hope of it, and if anything else, he expected that a bottle of Jack Daniels would go good for making him feel a little better anyways. He could always use a little confidence in the idea that he would kill his liver with the hopes of fixing other problems. He didn't want to admit it, though, but he had never felt more certain of doing this than he would admit. Rationally speaking, there were millions of problems with this scenario, the most prevalent of which was that this felt like a story or a movie or some other fictional moment. He didn't know how to put the idea of what he was thinking into words. He wanted it more than he wanted anything else, but rationally speaking he knew he shouldn't. There would definitely be consequences he hadn't thought of to this, the foremost on his mind relating to his mate and his reaction to a huge bear in his kitchen when he got home. Yes, Kevin had been supportive of Dustin's goals, but what would he actually say if Dustin reached them just like that in the blink of an eye?

Dustin shook his head a bit, uncaring. He had nothing to lose for trying, but he didn't know how he would get that cigar lit. He'd never smoked in his life and was rather ashamed to admit he'd never even tried working a lighter before. He didn't have a match on hand, but he knew that if things were going to change for him, he'd wait until his mate got home for them to do so. That way he could alleviate any worries about Kevin at the same time.

It was a bit too late that he realized he'd already downed the first shot of honey whiskey into his mouth because the burn of alcohol really lit his face up when he did realize it. The sour taste wasn't really offset by the honey, but the taste of honey did make a sweet aftertaste he liked more than he had originally expected. That was his problem with alcohol; it all tasted bitter and toxic. He had not really liked any others he'd tried, but this... this whiskey was certainly one for him to remember, even if he didn't become Berkley from drinking it.

The burn travelled down to his stomach and he couldn't help but wince as he thought of the fact that it was probably going to hurt coming out. He didn't like the idea of having a gut problem any but he had to deal with it. Just like he had to deal with his life, regardless whether he liked it or not. The thought rang through his head a little depressingly, and he thought to himself about it for a little. Was he truly content with his life, or had he just settled into quiet complacency with it? Had he decided that the life he was living was the only one he could get and that it might as well be lived because death was inevitable either way? Dustin didn't want to analyze these things right now. He took another shot of the whiskey, not caring about the bitter taste the second time around. It wasn't what he wanted to think about, but even so the alcohol wasn't drowning it from his mind.

Dustin rubbed his pudgy belly, trying to regain that proud feeling he'd had earlier in the evening. He loved how big it had gotten lately, and he wanted to see it swell even bigger right before his eyes right now. The note had promised changes but only if he could use both the cigar and the bottle of Jack Daniels in one go. He scratched at it a little and then frowned before thinking that he wished he had the courage to even smoke the cigar. He'd always been scared of addiction, and Berkley was certainly addicted to cigars and booze; that's why he had them both in excess almost all the time regardless of how few effects they had on him. But he had wanted to try smoking for a while now, to see why most of his family did it. Why his mate had used to do it. Why several of his friends did it. As he thought about it, he was the only one who'd never tried smoking that he was able to be around, and the idea of being able to do it excited him.

But he'd never thought he could. He was scared stiff of the idea of addiction, or coughing up a lung the first time. He was sure he'd do both, too, knowing how most of the people around him smoked like chimneys and didn't care who was around to know it. Dustin only knew that he was wanting to try it, but that he was not going to be able to unless Kevin helped him with encouragement. Kev had been very encouraging in the past so he knew that if Kev bought this note just as much as Dustin did, there would be very little reason for him not to do it. The problem was finding a way to change enough that Kev would know who it was in his kitchen when he got home, or to at least explain the situation enough to let Kevin be convinced. After all, there was nothing that said that Dustin wouldn't still love Kevin when he was Berkley. The two had never met in any form of fantasy or media that Dustin had conceived of; Kevin was real, Berkley was not. They'd left it that way, and he would do the same unless something changed that like this note suggested.

Another shot had gone down before Dustin even was aware again, and he caught himself filling the shot glass again without hesitation and dumping the contents in one go down his throat. He tried to tell himself that it tasted the same as before, but it didn't. The honey taste was sweeter and stronger, the Jack Daniels itself being more palpable than before. It was almost like he was getting used to the idea of drinking this stuff, and the more he thought that this was something Berkley would like to agree with, he smiled bigger and then looked down at his gut hearing an audible straining noise as his pants felt noticeably tighter around his waist. He shifted in his seat and then sat up to look at his gut and blinked realizing that indeed he did look a bit bigger in the waist after just a few shots of this whiskey. Could it be possible, though, that he was changing already after just a few shots?

Dustin stood up and went to the bathroom to look for the signs of changing in the mirror again and he started to think that maybe it was just the way he sat in the chair; his pants didn't feel so tight anymore as he was walking around. He didn't have to go far in the small apartment for his bathroom, and when he got there he was dumbfounded instantly upon looking in the mirror. He was changing, after all, and it wasn't just his imagination. His eyes were a deep aqua blue, and he had normally hazel eyes. He was amazed by the vibrant color, the pure depth of his eyes, and he knew instantly that he was becoming Berkley tonight. He wasn't going to have to wait for a made-up day when he would wake up and this would be a reality; tonight would be that reality.

Dustin looked at the other changes in his physical self and came to the conclusion that whatever was happening to him was altering without any pain or problems. He wondered at what point his Crohn's would disappear, and he lifted up his shirt to see if the scar from the surgery was still there. It was, but it seemed noticeably better and lighter than he'd come to expect even after months of recovery. He hoped it would disappear soon, if it did, and that his Crohn's would just cease to exist. The scar wasn't the only thing that had changed, though. His body hair was thicker, covering more of his chest and belly than before, but it was lighter by a few shades of brown; closer to a medium brown than he had been since he was a young boy. His hair had darkened to a deep brown years ago but he could remember a time when it was much lighter like it looked now. He was sure that he was getting his fursona's fur color before he got the fur itself, and that was just fine with him.

He thought to call his mate up at work and tell him what was going on, but he wasn't sure if Kev would even believe the story if he'd told him. Hell, he wasn't even sure if he believed it now; maybe he was getting buzzed and seeing things he wanted to see so badly he'd trick himself into seeing them now. He went back to the kitchen and took a straight shot from the bottle without the shot glass this time, not caring how much extra he took into his system. The whiskey was too good to put down, and that part of his brain that warned of addiction was alarmed into telling him to be careful. Dustin didn't care, though, he wasn't going to stay himself much longer. He was going to become better, improved, and he was going to do it regardless if he got addicted to it. Nothing was going to stop him.

His clothes had changed by the time he set the bottle back on the table with a third of the contents gone from it. His shirt had changed to match Berkley's, a ruby/topaz button-up shirt that was currently buttoned all the way up for some reason, and it looked a bit snug around his gut. He didn't want to unbutton it, he wanted to feel the buttons pop free and his gut burst from behind them, but they weren't yet. He told himself that he would probably soon do exactly as he was thinking, though, because he was definitely bigger than when he'd looked in the mirror before the guest had dropped the package off.

Dustin tried his hardest to contain his excitement as he rubbed his growing belly and then scratched at the beard that was fuller over his cheeks on his face, feeling how the hair there was somewhat softer and thicker at the same time. He blushed a little; he couldn't help it. He wanted to feel everything change, he wanted to see everything change. But he was wanting more of that whiskey, something in him had developed that addiction to it that he would have normally worried about developing. Now he embraced it, and it had been so fluid and slick in his mind that he didn't even realize that the switch had been made. He rubbed his furry cheeks and smiled bigger again, looking down at his changed clothing with a bit of wonder. How had they managed to suddenly change like that? He found he didn't care, he just wanted to have it stay the way it was.

The words were all the same at this point. He found apathy in most of the things he would not have normally been apathetic towards. He only wanted the end results. And as he headed back into the kitchen to look at that bottle again, he found he was changing quicker than before, his strides increasing with each step as he felt his legs getting longer, stronger, and thicker in the jeans, making the fabric press against them increasingly so as he did. He tried his hardest to contain the giddy excitement at feeling his jeans fill out around his legs (he otherwise had hated that feeling before, but now he wasn't sure if it was as bad as he had made it out to be) and Dustin felt a bit of arousal growing in his pants as he did, making a bulge very evident in the front of his jeans as he got hard from all the changes.

Dustin didn't feel the tail ripping from the back end of his body as his spine elongated, then slithered through a new hole made for the tail in his pants. He could only feel it twitching to life as muscles and nerves wrapped around the spinal extension into a proper feline tail, one that he knew was a tiger's tail instinctively. It grew past his butt, down the thighs to the back of the knees, then down the calves to the floor where the tip gentle touched the cold floor and he nearly jumped at the surprising sensation, the tail curling up a little to avoid the cold floor.

He pulled the tail into his hands and was amazed at how fast the fingernails extended into black, curved points, then became retractable claws just like the tiger genes in him would denote. He retracted them to test the ability, and found that it was no harder than thinking about curling his fingers up into a ball around the tail that he was holding now. The fingers and palms themselves developed thicker skin at the tips and palms became leathery and thick with padding as his hands adjusted more. Dustin's hands resembled paws more than hands at this point, the fingers slightly thicker and shorter than he was used to, but they were no less functional than before. He smiled bigger as he felt the blood warming his tail, the flow of nerves and muscles making every twitch seem oddly surreal in his paws now.

Dustin had no idea what he was going to tell Kevin when he got home, but he knew for a fact that he wasn't going to let it be a simple "I don't know what happened to me, but I'm glad it did" moment. Even though that was exactly what he wanted to do, it was all he could think about, it wasn't what he was going to do. He was going to have to explain.

Berkley's fur coloring was starting to seep into his body hair as it thickened all over him, and he could see the grass green striping flowing over the dirt brown fur that was thickening from his naturally hairy body; he could see that the stripes themselves were about an inch thick in some places, but in some they were thinner and no matter where they were, they were constant and solid. It was almost like a dye job, except that a dye job like this couldn't possibly exist because of the perfection of each stripe.

Dustin chuckled a bit and then coughed before realizing that his voice was changing as well, deepening a little bit and taking on a slightly raspy tone to it. He tested it out and the more he did, the more that it lowered, becoming a near-guttural bass with a heavy smoker's rasp and a slight Texan accent to replace the standard Southern accent he had in his voice. He liked the new accent better than his old one; he had always thought he'd sounded slightly annoying but now he sounded like a true bear would: powerful and dominating.

Dustin hurried into the bathroom, taking the bottle with him this time as he picked it up from the table and letting his tail balance out his increasing body weight and height. He was over six feet now, that much he was certain of, but his weight was climbing faster than he would have ever thought. His gut now protruded a little from under his tank-top and he was pretty sure that the shirt would never button up again if he wanted it to. Not that he wanted that, he liked open-ended shirts better. It had always been one of his style choices. Dustin didn't know what to say when he got back to the mirror and found that his whole body was covered in the thick brown fur with the green stripes coursing through it. He took his glasses off, thinking that maybe he wouldn't need them anymore. He was right; his vision immediately improved without the oval rims surrounding his aqua blue eyes. In fact, he could see all the rest of the changes better now without them, or maybe they had secretly multiplied in the time it had taken to remove the glasses.

Without them, Dustin could see exactly how big he was getting. The bathroom was way too small now; he'd soon have no mirror to look into because he feared he wouldn't be able to get out of the bathroom if he just stood there growing in the way of things. His height was about where it should have finished, nearing the seven foot mark; his weight probably closer to the final weight his fursona would have been at four-fifty. He looked down, but he couldn't see his feet anymore. He never would again, he reckoned, and he was just fine with that. It wasn't like he needed to see his feet changing into four-toed feline paws anyways; he could feel the retractable claws and thick pads down there forming as well. Dustin's weight and height were not the only things that had changed, but they were certainly the most noticeable.

As Dustin finished easing into the idea of being a big bear/tiger hybrid of his own creation, a reality of which was steadily becoming more real with each second, he started to wonder whether or not he would keep his mentality or how it would change if it did. He already knew he was addicted to the booze he had in his hand (and which he took a huge gulp of just for thinking about it) but he wasn't sure what else would change. He worried that if he did change much, he would forget about Kevin and that would not be something he wanted. After all, Berkley and Kevin had never been intended to meet and they had never met in any scenario, not even with Kevin's fursona Anakar. He hoped that that would stay if nothing else; he didn't want to forget about his mate.

Berkley's body had just about fully taken over at this point as Dustin felt his shoulders broaden a bit more, his muscles all over growing far more powerful. He looked at the tight sleeves that contained his massively strong arms and flexed one of them quietly smiling to himself as he saw the power within it. Even though he was fat, he knew he was majorly built underneath. He was capable of lifting a truck if he wanted to, he was sure of it, but his fat made it seem as if he didn't have any strength in his torso at all. That is, unless you got right up close and noticed how strong he really was. Dustin smiled a bit and drank more from the whiskey, trying to remember he needed to save a little for when he had the cigar in a bit.

The face was the last part of him to change, and he didn't even feel it as he watched something pull and tug on his face, pressing into the view beneath and between his eyes, his nose and lips extending into a short but thick bear muzzle, filling with long, sharp fangs and a longer thicker tongue. He saw the tip of the nose turn black and become leathery as well and he chuckled deeply in his chest, chortling a bit even, before he patted his thick gut and hearing the resounding thud it made with each slap he gave it (though the sounds were muted since he wasn't fully slapping it). He felt his ears rounding out and then moving to the top of his head, swiveling forwards and facing the same direction his eyes were. He thought he had increased sensory perception in them, but the house was too quiet for him to think straight usually, and even now it seemed deafening almost. He hated being alone in the house all the time.

Physically, his form had fully changed. He was still worried about his mentality, and he was in fact quite sure that he was changing in ways he wasn't even aware of, but he couldn't prove anything major. He didn't know what was going to happen next; all he knew was that the cigar would probably be the finishing touch on all of it. He headed back into the kitchen, having to squeeze himself through the door to do so and again to get into the kitchen. Doors were a bit of an issue for Berkley, and Dustin had never thought of that when he had made him so huge.

Dustin had to wait only a few more minutes before Kevin came home. He hadn't even realized that time had passed much at all mostly due to his changes taking up his field of vision for everything else, but after the physical changes had settled in, he had laid back on the couch in the kitchen's corner and drank straight from the bottle of whiskey, not sure whether or not he wanted to finish it all as he was waiting. He still found it odd that even though he had physically changed, he would need Kevin to help him finish with his learning how to smoke. He hoped that this was a good thing, not a bad one. But Kevin came walking through the front door and he didn't even notice the huge bear next to the door lazing on the couch at first.

"Honey, I'm home-" Then he did. "What the fuck?" He had recognized the bear drinking whiskey on his couch before from somewhere and he couldn't immediately place the thoughts in the right slots. He had to think about it before he connected the impossible dots together, "Dustin? Is that you?"

"Sure is." Dustin said with a bit of a playful grin on his face, a growl in his throat, "Somebody left me a package here today and the note in it said if I drink this bottle of whiskey and smoke that cigar on the table there, I'll become just like Berkley."

The ideas were all there, but Kevin wouldn't believe it just like that. He had no reason to believe it, but it was obvious that Dustin was telling the truth. He could smell the bear's scent on him somewhat strongly; he reeked of the honey whiskey, something of musk and a heavy dose of other manly scents that Kevin quite honestly did not find too attractive at first. He wasn't a fan of bears like Dustin was, and in fact his support for Dustin becoming fat and happy was more or less a sign of love only now he had actually changed into a bear. He had become the very thing that he idolized and Kevin was at a loss for words.

"I need your help with lighting a cigar though, hon." Dustin said with a bit of a blush on his furry cheeks. Kevin closed the front door, locked it, and then turned back bewildered to face Dustin again, who was finishing another gulp of the honey whiskey, "Because I don't know how to do it myself... I think that if I smoke though it will change my mentality into Berkley's... and I don't know what that will mean for us."

"Then why do it?" Kevin said firmly as he crossed to the table, picked up the note, and read it with a bit of a glancing look at the cigar when he finished. "If you're not sure how this will end, why did you do it in the first place?"

"I... Hope I guess." Dustin said, genuinely sincere about that word, "I thought that maybe it would fix all my physical problems. And it looks like it did. But-"

"But you worry that you're going to end up not mated to me or something since Berkley never was. Right?"

Dustin nodded a bit and then sat up on the couch, which he still took up most of even sitting upright on one side. Kevin turned back to face him and he smiled with a bit of a laugh, "What's so funny?"

"If this shit's going to turn you into Berkley, why are you worried?" Kevin said with a bit of a laugh, "Berkley's your guy, hon. He can change however you want him to, it's not like he's set in stone or anything. If you want him to be mated to me, then just say he is. You're not going to lose me, though. I love you too much no matter what you look like. Haven't I always said that to you?"

Dustin thought about this for a moment, a little ashamed he had never considered it that way before. Most normal furries would have agreed that fursonas aren't set in stone, but Dustin was a writer. He believed in logical progression of his characters, fursona included, and believed that what he'd set was the stone that the characters had to fit into. He didn't want to admit it, but the idea of ever-changing your fursona to match your changing interests was one he hated; if it meant that he had to for Kevin's sake, however, he would have to do it.

"As for lighting a cigar, well I see no problem helping you with that, but you seem to have taken to drinking all by yourself so I'm a bit confused as to why you need my help anyways."

"Drinking's easy." Dustin said a little defensively, "All you do is open your mouth and swallow."

"Hey, easy big guy. Don't gotta be defensive with me." Kevin said firmly again, holding his ground by the table as Dustin stood up and looked down at his mate. He was going to have to get used to his mate being so much smaller than him. Kevin was close to three hundred pounds, sure, but he was about a foot shorter than Dustin was now, and he definitely couldn't just squeeze-hug him like always when he came home from work now. Hell, they'd need a much bigger space to live in just to accommodate Dustin now. "I'll help you with the cigar, but you have to promise me that you will find a way to make me Anakar."

"I don't know who it was that sent me the box, hon. I just know that the guy left it and that was it." Dustin said with a bit of a shrug. "But if I see him again, I'll be sure to ask him-"

"Hon, you know I'm kidding. I'm fine with my life as it is." Kevin cut him short and picked up the cigar with a bit of a smile on his face, "Why don't you go ahead and finish your little change though, and we'll see exactly how far down the rabbit hole goes?" Kevin was like Dustin, quoting pop culture at random times; he didn't ever mind it when Dustin did, and Dustin was likewise not phased now. Dustin took the cigar in his huge paw, and it seemed to change size between Kevin's hand and Dustin's paw, the cigar appearing smaller if only because Dustin was so much bigger but it didn't change in size at all.

Kevin rummaged over by the microwave for the lighter they used for the candles whenever they wanted a romantic dinner, and while he did, Dustin eyed his mate, watching him intently and carefully as he always did. He knew that Kevin was right, and every inch of his body screamed for this to finish, that he wanted it, but he felt a pang of regret. Something in him knew he'd be leaving everything he knew behind, that a new life was about to begin. He'd never had a chance like this, and the prospect was still somewhat intimidating for Dustin. He tried to shake his mind clear of this idea, but it didn't go. He resolved that Berkley would take care of it when he started smoking.

He found the lighter and came back to his lover as Dustin put the cigar in his mouth and Kevin gave a slight chuckle, then thoughtfully, "You know... on second thought you do look good as a bear, hon. I never imagined it would look as good as you do right now." Dustin nodded silently, a bit of a warm, fuzzy feeling in his chest and stomach that could only be described as pride and shyness mixed into one; one of those moments when you're a bit embarrassed to feel as good as you do for the compliment that surely must be true.

Kevin smiled warmly, his very demeanor appearing to be one of love and care, even though Kevin was tumultuous on the inside. He didn't really want this for Dustin; he'd come to expect that he was the more stable one when times got tough, that he was the bigger one of the two physically, and that he was the emotional support Dustin needed. If Dustin became Berkley, who knew exactly how useful he'd be in this relationship anymore? Dustin always talked about being a bear, wanting to be a bear, bears in general... Dustin was obsessed with them, to be frank. And Kevin was supportive of his mate wanting to pursue his passions in life, but now he wondered what would happen when Dustin found them? What would his next goal be? Would it involve him? Neither of those questions had an immediate answer, and Kevin was almost sure that he didn't want to find out if it meant that he was going to be alone. Nevertheless, Kevin's needs and worries were overshadowed by the one thing that he knew to be true above all else: Dustin deserved to be happy, and whatever that meant to Dustin was what Kevin wanted too. He was not letting his mate go unhappy, and certainly he wasn't going to stop him from doing what he wanted.

Kevin flicked the lighter, and the flame went yellow as it ignited, the tip of the cigar just a few inches away from it. Dustin put the cigar in his maw slowly and then leaned in. He knew how to smoke, he practiced enough online to know the whole experience. Not to mention he'd lived with smokers almost all his life until he met Kevin and he knew that it wasn't too much of a hassle to draw smoke into your lungs. Dustin almost coughed, gagged, threw up; he wasn't used to how strong it was and he accidentally took the smoke into his lungs instead of just keeping it in his maw like he was supposed to, but he didn't care after a moment because then the changes kicked back in again.

His mind was rewriting itself, and he could almost feel his body tensing up as it did. He felt stronger mentally, tougher, and definitely more dominant. He tried his best to think clearly for a second about his name, but nothing came to mind. He closed his eyes, instinctively drawing back on the cigar and holding the smoke this time, before he slowly exhaled the thick smoke through his nose and with it his old life went with it. He could feel his life change in perspective and outlook.

He was tougher, for sure. He had hardened himself to life, he put up with things with the belief that things always worked out for the best, even if they were tough. He knew there were things he couldn't change, and that those things he would have to learn to live with. He knew there was nothing he couldn't do to steel himself from harsh realities, but he knew he wouldn't just sit by idly when there was something he could do. But above all else, he knew he was in charge of his life, and nobody else would be able to take that from him. Not even Kevin. The name in his mind rang out and he snapped his eyes open suddenly to look at his boyfriend who was still standing there with the lighter in his hand.

Kevin had momentarily stopped breathing, hoping that things had worked out as he had thought that they would; he hoped that Dustin was still in there somewhere and that Dustin hadn't forgotten about them. It had crossed his mind, and even though he had tried convincing himself it wouldn't happen, the thought persisted. When Dustin opened his eyes, Kevin knew instantly this wasn't the same Dustin. This was all Berkley now, and Kevin was sure that Dustin was gone. He only hoped that Dustin had been smart enough to put enough of himself into Berkley beforehand.

Berkley smiled a bit, but it was a tough grin; Dustin had always envisioned Berkley looking tough and firm even when he was happy. The smoke drifted from his nose after he took another drag, and Berkley grunted a bit in preparation to speak. He chuckled a bit suddenly and then leaned in and pulled his mate close to him and hugged him lightly, surprising Kevin perfectly as he let out a slightly feline purr.

"I love you Kevin... Thank you for everything." Berkley said with a growl in his voice that was permanently engrained with a slight Texan accent that Kevin knew he'd have to get used to hearing. "I still need you, though."

All Kevin could do was say, "No problem, hon. I'm always going to be here for you whatever you need." But that wasn't all he was thinking. He was thinking many relieved thoughts at the same time, glad that Dustin had put enough into Berkley. He could grow used to Berkley; he didn't like bears, but he loved Dustin and if Berkley was still somewhat Dustin, that would do.

"I still need you to love me, be there for me when I need you to be... you're still everything I've always needed, ever wanted, and more." Berkley said with a bit of a romantic kiss planting itself on Kevin's mouth. He had gotten used to Dustin having a beard, but the furry muzzle kissing him was still new to him. Berkley replaced the cigar in the corner of his maw and smoked idly on it as he pulled back from the kiss, "I'm going to be busy though in the next couple of days. And I'm going to need you to help me with that too."

"What?"

"We're moving to Montana. This ol' burr's got a cabin out there you're goin' to love." Berk grinned and chuckled patting his hefty gut with a hearty rub, "And don't worry about money, hon. I've got it covered just like I had planned it out. We don't have to worry about getting you a job or anything."

Berkley's words were nice, and he was sure that there was no doubt to them, but Kevin was a bit wary about the sudden change in lifestyle too. Berkley explained that this had all be planned out too, he supposed, since there was a reason that he always talked about the cabin Berkley had in the woods in Montana. There wasn't much that Dustin had never planned out; he had been thorough in making sure that everything had been perfect. He had made the life as an ideal life, but he'd never thought in a million years it would become his reality. He clenched his lips around the cigar, drew back on it heavily and then exhaled heavily, his cigar smoke becoming part of his natural scent as well, and he grinned bigger at Kevin.

"So... we're just going to move now?" Kevin said with a bit of a worry in his voice still, "Are you sure you want to do all this?"

"Hon, Dustin would have been just as worried as you are. I'm not Dustin." Berkley said definitively, "We're moving, you and I. We're going to be happy when we get there."

Kevin nodded a bit and smiled deeply impressed by the depth of Berkley's eyes, which he had never thought was possible. He'd always thought that fursona eyes were a bit shallow, they were like mirrors in the pictures he saw. Berkley's eyes were just as deep and thoughtful as Dustin's, however, and they were so much more. It was like falling in love all over again. He knew from that moment he would be very happy with his mate's new appearance. There was nothing to worry about after all.

Berkley drank the last of the honey whiskey and smiled a bit as he set the empty bottle on the table. "Oh and one more thing." He said as Kevin looked at him curiously. Berkley chuckled a bit and then slyly grinned, "I know who gave me this box now. And we're going to see if he can help you become Anakar. I'm not taking no for an answer." Kevin could only let out a laugh, then he hugged his mate before the two kissed deeply. It was going to be a wonderful new life.